Starshine
by xSPUDx
Summary: Willy Wonka never expected that a new, super-powered candy invention of his would lead to a girl he could never have dreamed of. DeppWonka/OC, ok this summary sucks. the "T" rating now kicks in. FYI:ON A LONG HIATUS- WILL GET BACK SOMEDAY
1. Just Magnificent

A/N: this is based on the 2005 movie. and Mr. Wonka in this fic is certainly the Johnny Depp variety...(drools)

sadly i do not own anything that has to do with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ... although i am in the process of devising a way to transport the delicious Mr. Wonka to reality... (yeah, lets see how well that works)

well, this is my first CATCF fic, i hope it's ok, reviews are great!

* * *

CH 1

Just Magnificent

"Charlie? Charlie!" Willy Wonka cried out as he raced through the minty grass toward the decrepit little cottage in the Chocolate Room. He burst through the front door, excitement written all over his pale face.

"Charlie! There you are! I've been looking for you! I've got a new invention to show you that I think you'll like!"

The boy abandoned his schoolbooks and ran up to Willy, curious to see what the infamous chocolatier had to show him.

"What have you got there, Willy?" he asked.

"Well, it doesn't have an official name just yet, but its one of the most amazing and sensational candies that I've come up with! Know why? Know why?" Willy grinned down at Charlie.

"Why? What is it, Willy?"

Willy's grin got even bigger. "This here is a candy that acts like a rubber bouncy ball! You can bounce it around all you want, and when you get hungry, you can pop it in your mouth and eat it!" he held out a gloved hand, and nestled in his palm was what appeared to be a small blue ball, not much larger than a marble.

"That's amazing," Charlie said as he took the candy and examined it, "but does it really bounce?"

"Of course it does, silly!" Willy exclaimed, "and boy, does it go high!" he plucked the blue candy from Charlie's hand and held it between his forefinger and thumb. His wide grin turned into a mischievous smirk. "Hey, wanna try it?"

Charlie's face lit up in excitement. "Yes, sure!"

Willy leaned his cane up against the wall and motioned for Charlie to go to the other end of the small room. "Okay Charlie," he said, "go long!"

Willy threw the blue candy to the floor, and it shot up towards the ceiling with great force. It traveled up to the rafters of the cottage, hit a beam, and shot back down, where Charlie caught it before it ended up striking the fireplace mantel.

Willy giggled his insane little laugh. "Wasn't that just magnificent?" he asked, voice filled with delight, "it's so much fun!"

Charlie smiled at Willy, "it's great," he replied, "but it seems extraordinarily bouncy. We have to be careful with this so it doesn't break anythin-"

"Let's do it again!" Willy ran over to Charlie and snatched the candy out of his hand. "Go over to the other side of the table, and ill see if I can bounce it to you!"

Charlie made his way to the opposite side of the small kitchen table, but Willy had already sent the candy shooting through the room before the boy was ready. It rocketed up to the rafters of the cottage again, and came hurdling back down after hitting the underside of the roof. The blue candy bounced off of the floor near the front door, hit a wall, and shot towards the kitchen area with incredible speed. Charlie attempted to run after the ball, but just as he got to the kitchen, the ball had struck the side of the stove and was headed for the opposite end of the house. Willy anticipated its path, and tried to intercept the ball before it hit the front door. The blue candy hit him on the head instead.

"Ow!" Willy rubbed the side of his head, "that sure is powerful," he muttered.

"Willy!" Charlie exclaimed, "We have to catch that ball-"

Suddenly there was a loud THUNK, followed by an unpleasant CRAASH.

Willy and Charlie exchanged worried glances, and then slowly made their way to the kitchen table. There they were met with the very unpleasant sight of broken shards of glass and two sad little yellow daisies lying on the floor. The culprit, the blue candy ball, rolled across the floor past their feet.

The smile instantly vanished from Willy's face. "Uh-oh," he said quietly.

"We have to clean this up before my parents and grandparents come back!" Charlie exclaimed, and ran to the kitchen area to grab a broom. He and Willy got on their hands and knees and began cleaning up the mess, when the rest of the Bucket family walked in the door.

"Ello, Charlie!" Mrs. Bucket chimed as she and Mr. Bucket walked in, followed by both sets of grandparents. "We're ba-"

She looked down to see Charlie and Willy's heads poking up from behind the table. "Wot's all this?" she asked, "Wot are you two playing around underneath my table for?"

Willy laughed nervously as he and Charlie stood up, fake grins plastered across both their faces.

"Wot have you been up to?" asked Mr. Bucket suspiciously, eyeing them both.

"Well..." started Willy,

"You see, mum," Charlie said, scratching his head, "Willy has this new candy invention..."

"Well you see," Willy continued, "I guess I haven't got it quite right..."

"And it bounces awfully powerful..."

"I should work on the formula a bit more I guess..."

"It needs to be toned down a lot more apparently..."

Mrs. Bucket shook her head in confusion. "Alright, both of you calm down now," she said.

Mr. Bucket finished helping grandpa Joe back into the bed walked over to his wife. "Alright," he said, holding up a hand, "one at a time now. There was something about a candy invention? Willy, how about you explain first."

Laughing nervously, Willy told Charlie's parents about his incredible candy that bounced like a rubber ball. "It's really very amazing," he said sheepishly, "I guess it just needs to be a lot less bouncy, that's all."

"Charlie, do you have anything to add?" asked his mother.

"Well, Willy brought the candy here to show me, and we started bouncing it around to see if it would work-"

"Which it really does!" Willy interrupted.

"And, well, we...got a bit carried away, I guess," continued Charlie, "and we tried to stop it, we really did! But it was just so fast that neither of us could catch it in time..." he trailed off.

"And what happened?" asked Mrs. Bucket, a worried tone in her voice.

Willy picked the two yellow daisies off the floor and placed them carefully on the table.

Gasping, Mrs. Bucket covered her mouth with her hands. "My vase!" she breathed. Mr. Bucket placed his arm around her shoulders for comfort.

"Charlie," Mr. Bucket said quietly, "I think you owe your mum an apology, and that goes for you too, Willy."

"I'm sorry, mum." Charlie said, looking down at the table.

"Yeah, sorry." added Willy.

Mrs. Bucket perked up a bit and walked over to Charlie and Willy. "It's alright boys," she crooned, "thank goodness it was just a vase that we lost and nothing worse, right?" she kissed the top of Charlie's head and patted Willy on the back. "But I want this mess cleaned up now," she said, her tone serious, "and there will be no more playing with new inventions in the house, understand? There are plenty of other rooms in this factory where you can test bouncy candy balls." smiling, she handed Willy the broom and Charlie a dustpan.

After the broken vase was cleaned up, Willy told the Buckets that he and Charlie were off to the Inventing Room to work on the candy ball formula. Just as he picked up his cane and was reaching for the door handle, Mrs. Bucket spoke up.

"Willy," she called, turning from her work in the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I think you and Charlie owe me a new vase," she said, picking up the yellow daisies from the table and taking them back to the kitchen with her.

* * *

hope you liked it...reviews? reviews?


	2. Help Wanted

CH 2

Help Wanted

"Oh, poppycock," Willy muttered as he and Charlie entered the Inventing Room, "where are we going to find your mom a new vase?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Charlie replied, "but we should try to find something soon. I know my mum really liked that vase."

The pair made their way past all sorts of strange machines and contraptions, until suddenly, Willy gasped and wheeled around to face Charlie. "We could make her a new vase!" he said excitedly.

"What would we make it out of, though?" asked Charlie.

"Out of chocolate, of course!" Willy replied, the excitement of his idea lighting up his face.

The boy patted Willy's arm. "Sorry to break it to you," he said solemnly, "but I really don't think a chocolate vase is going to work very well."

"Oh yeah?" Willy shot back, "and give me one good reason why it won't work? I'm sure you have been filled in on the story of how I built a gigantic palace for an Indian prince, which, by the way, was made entirely of either light or dark chocolate."

"And how did that end up turning out?" Charlie asked.

"It was one of my finest creations. It turned out just wonderful." Willy replied with smugness.

"But it melted, didn't it?"

"Oh."

Willy narrowed his eyes in thought, and then resumed his walk towards a counter filled with various liquids and other candy-making substances. He took the little blue candy ball out of his jacket pocket and placed it in a glass beaker, then placed the beaker over a small flame.

"What are you doing that for?" Charlie asked.

"What? oh!" replied Willy, "I have to melt the bouncy candy ball down because, as we found out, it's much too powerful still, and we just cant have it escaping and bouncing wild all over the factory, now can we?"

He proceeded to add together various liquids into containers in an attempt to create a better candy ball mixture.

"I don't ever remember if there were any places in this town that sold pottery or vases or things like that," Charlie thought aloud, "I suppose we could go and take a look, or see if we can find any information on someone who makes things like that."

"Mmm-hmm," Willy was too absorbed in his work at that point to really pay attention to what Charlie was saying.

But the boy continued nonetheless. "I wonder what mum would like, if she would want something new for a change, or if we should try to get a vase that looks like the old one. I wonder what we should have it be made out of..."

Willy looked up from his work to grab a bottle across the counter, when he suddenly froze.

"Newspaper..." he mumbled.

Charlie looked at him in disappointment. "Come on now, Willy, be serious here."

Willy blinked and looked over at Charlie. "No, newspaper!" he cried as he leapt from his seat. He ran over to one of his many workers, an Oompa Loompa, who had walked past them carrying a newspaper. Willy stopped in front of the tiny man and crouched down.

"Hello there!" Willy greeted the Oompa Loompa with an excess of enthusiasm. "Can I borrow this, please?" he asked, pointing to the newspaper. The Oompa Loompa nodded, handing the paper over to Willy.

"Thank you!" he said cheerfully, as he rose and patted the little man on the head.

"What are you going to do with a newspaper?" Charlie asked when Willy returned to the counter. The chocolatier only grinned as he pushed the bottles and containers out of his way to clear a place for the paper. Spreading the various parts of the newspaper around, he searched for one section in particular.

"Aah! Here we are!" Willy exclaimed as he pulled out what he was looking for.

"What is it?" asked Charlie.

"This, my dear boy, is the _classifieds_ section. We can look for vases or pots or whatever we need in here!"

The two spent a good half hour scanning the "stuff" section of the classifieds, but ultimately had no luck. No one advertised their pottery making services, and no one was selling any pieces, either.

Willy slumped down in his seat, discouraged. "Now what are we going to do?" he asked.

Charlie thought for a moment, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the newspaper section. His attention was suddenly caught by an advertisement on the bottom corner of the front page.

"I've got it!"

He read aloud his discovery: "**'WANT TO BUY, SELL, OR ADVERTISE? PLACE YOUR AD HERE AND WATCH YOUR STUFF GO! CALL 800-555-3850 TO PLACE YOUR AD, OR MAIL IT TO 'CLASSIFIEDS', PO BOX 35676, WESTMINSTER.'**"

Charlie looked up at Willy in excitement. "Willy!" he said, "that's exactly what we'll do!"

Willy looked at him blankly. "What?"

"We'll place an ad in here!" he smiled triumphantly, "we'll advertise our need for someone to make us a new vase!"

A huge grin spread across Willy's face as he heard Charlie's strategy.

"Oh my dear boy!" he exclaimed, "That is exactly what we'll do! We must come up with an ad to put in the paper right away!" he jumped up and crumpled the newspaper into a giant wad. "Now we mustn't dilly, or dally, because we have an enormous amount of things to do before the day is done!"

...

A half hour passed by, and finally Willy and Charlie had a respectable ad ready for the paper.

"Here," Charlie handed the written ad to Willy, "Read it aloud and let's see how it sounds."

"**'YOUNG BOY SEEKS NEW VASE**

**EXPERIENCED AND TALENTED ARTIST NEEDED **

**TO CRAFT NEW VASE ACCORDING TO SPECIFICATIONS.**

**MUST BE WILLING TO WORK WITH BOY AND FRIEND. **

**INTERESTED? MAIL REQUEST TO PO BOX 67899, WESTMINSTER.'**"

"It sounds wonderful!" said Willy, "we should get it in the paper as soon as possible!"

* * *

ok so, i hope the address on those classifieds ads wasn't too weird or confusing...i just totally made that PO box stuff up. its not a real address. So yeah.

Hope this is good so far!


	3. Something Special

ok, so yeah, there is a total Sweeney Todd reference in this chapter, and it carries into other chapters after this one too...i don't know why, i just thought of it one day while i was writing this chapter...so yeah.

don't mind me and my weirdness.

* * *

CH 3

Something Special

"Ohhhh," Willy moaned aloud as he paced the floor of the factory's main office. Charlie was sitting in the massive maroon wingback chair behind Willy's equally massive desk, watching him pace the floor endlessly while tossing a bright green, mint-scented eraser into the air.

"Why hasn't anyone replied to the ad yet?" Willy wondered aloud.

"Just give it some time," replied Charlie, "someone is bound to give us a reply."

Willy stopped and leaned against the side of a giant, multi-paned window that overlooked the front of the factory, and the small town beyond its gates. "It's been long enough," he pouted.

"It's only Tuesday," Charlie said.

"Yeah, so?"

"Our ad appeared in the paper yesterday."

Willy rolled his amethyst eyes and resumed pacing, tossing his cane from one hand to the other as he strode back and forth across the violet-carpeted floor. He paced for a good long time, as if he was lost deep in thought.

Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the room, dropping his cane. His expression showed that some new thought had dawned on him.

"What is it?" asked Charlie.

"It's Tuesday, you said," Willy murmured, a grin appearing across his face. He spun towards the desk and looked down at Charlie. The boy waited for him to continue, leaning forward in the big chair and setting down the minty eraser.

"The incinerator," Willy continued, "we only light it on Tuesdays."

"And today is Tuesday," replied Charlie.

"Precisely!" Willy giggled. He picked up his cane and bounded out the office doors, giddy as ever.

...

"Willy? Willy!" Charlie ran across the meadow and through the groves of candy trees in the Chocolate Room in search of his friend. He stopped on the bridge that overlooked the chocolate waterfall to catch his breath, when he felt a tug at his pants leg. Charlie looked down to see an Oompa Loompa staring up at him with large eyes.

"Do you know where Mr. Wonka is?" Charlie asked the tiny worker. The Oompa Loompa nodded once, and then beckoned for the boy to follow him.

Charlie was ushered to the Television Testing Room, where he found Willy and many other Oompa Loompa workers perfecting a recent invention-Television Chocolate. After adorning a pair of red-tinted, bug-eyed safety glasses, Charlie rushed up to Willy, excitement radiating from his small frame.

"What is it, Charlie? Why are you all excited like this?" Willy asked, smiling from Charlie's energy.

"Remember how we had that ad put in the paper last week? Well, we have a reply!" Charlie thrust an envelope in Willy's direction. After examining the outside of the envelope, Willy tore it open and removed a small sheet of lined paper. He cocked his head to the left, studying the letter.

"Huh," he remarked, "well, it seems like our person here has written us a letter on a red piece of paper, but I can't read a single word it says!"

Charlie took the letter out of Willy's hands. "Willy, the paper's not red."

"Is too!" Willy snatched it back.

Charlie thought for a moment. "I think it's these glasses that make you think the paper's red."

"Well, don't take the glasses off whatever you do," replied Willy, "Cuz this light will burn the eyeballs right out of your skull! And we certainly don't want that."

"Maybe we should go to your office or something to read this letter," Charlie suggested.

Willy's face lit up. "Hey! Yeah! That's a great idea!" he said, grinning, "And you know what? We can take the great glass elevator to get there faster! Come on! It'll take much less time to get to the office, and then we can re-"

THUNK!

Willy walked straight into the transparent doors of his elevator, knocking the hat from his head and glasses from his face.

"I've got to be more careful where I put this thing," he muttered dejectedly.

The two stepped inside the clear contraption, Willy pressed the button that read MAIN OFFICE, and the elevator shot violently to the left as it began its journey through the factory. The great glass elevator had a habit of violently stopping and making very sharp turns as it travelled up, down, sideways, slantways, and any other ways possible.

Charlie slipped and nearly toppled over as the elevator threw itself backwards. He was getting a little more used to travelling in the elevator since moving into the factory, but what amazed him the most was how steady Willy Wonka was. Sure, the elevator always slammed its occupants around, but Willy stayed put and merely swayed along with the machine's movements.

A few moments-and an extremely violent stop-later, the clear doors of the elevator opened with a _ping!_ and Willy and Charlie stepped out into a corridor that led to the office.

Upon entering, Willy leaned his cane against the end of the huge mahogany desk and sat down heavily in the wingback chair with a sigh.

"Now, let's read that letter!"

Charlie handed the item over to Willy. The writing on the face of the envelope was small and simple, the letters written with precision. Willy flipped the envelope over and removed the paper, unfolding it carefully. The writing on the paper matched that of the envelope; simple printing, but executed with care. The paper itself seemed to be nothing special; a sheet of loose-leaf that looked as if it had been lost in the depths of some drawer for years, judging by the slightly rumpled edges and musty scent. Taped in the upper left corner was a clipping of the ad that Charlie and Willy had run in the paper.

"Let's hear what it says," said Charlie. Willy was startled by the sudden outburst, but cleared his throat and held the page in front of him.

"_To whoever this concerns-_

_My name is Isabella Morgan and I am an experienced amateur artist. My abilities range from two-dimensional work, such as drawing and painting, into the field of three-dimensional work as well. I have crafted many clay pieces for people, including a number of pottery items, such as pots and vases. I have always worked with people in designing work to their specifications and standards. If you are interested in my services, feel free to stop by my shop to see examples of my work (located above the barber shop on Fleet Street). _

_Thank you, _

_Isabella Morgan__**" **_

"Huh," said Willy, "well Charlie, what do you think?"

"She sounds nice," the boy replied, "it's a good option-"

"Great!" Willy interrupted, breaking into a huge grin, "Let's go over to this place now and check it out!" He rose from his chair and grabbed for his cane, but Charlie snatched it first.

"Willy," he started, "don't you want to wait until we get more replies so that we have more people to look into? I mean, what if this person doesn't turn out so great?"

Willy seemed unphased by Charlie's cautiousness. "Don't be silly, my dear boy," he replied, "This person sounds wonderful! Now come on, give me my cane," he reached his hand in Charlie's direction, expecting the cane to be placed in his palm.

Charlie knew that once Willy had his mind set on one thing that he wouldn't stop until his task was complete. That was one of the reasons why he became such a successful chocolatier. The boy tried to stall, glancing at the bright blue clock on the far wall. "Willy," he said, "don't you think it's a bit late to be going out? It's nearly...dinnertime, and my family will be expecting us soon."

The smile faded from Willy's face as he absorbed the information. His expression became thoughtful for a moment, and then returned to a comical smile. "Alright," he said, "you win, Charlie. We shall eat dinner first!" and he made another failed attempt at having his cane handed back to him.

"Why don't we just make it easier and wait till morning?" Charlie asked innocently.

Confusion spread across Willy's face. "Well, why would we wait till morning to eat dinner? Then it would be breakfast."

Charlie chuckled. "No, Willy, why don't we wait till morning to visit the person in the letter?"

A sense of clarity washed over the chocolatier like a wave. "Oh! I see! Gosh darn it, Charlie, sometimes you make me so puzzled!" he said with a giggle. "Let's go eat!"

Satisfied, Charlie gave Willy his cane, and secretly breathed a sigh of relief as he followed Willy out of the office and into the glass elevator.


	4. On the Down Low

CH 4

On the Down-Low

Charlie awoke the next morning to the sound of jackhammers rattling in the distance. _'The Oompa Loompas must be harvesting some more chocolate blocks_,' he thought as he rose from his bed and dressed for the day.

As he crawled down the rickety ladder into the main room of the house below, Charlie was greeted with a chorus of "good mornings" from his family. His mother was busy at the stove as usual, preparing what smelled like scrambled eggs. Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina were seated at the table, muttering some quiet conversation to each other about the nice climate inside the factory. Grandpa Joe was sweeping, Grandma Josephine was sitting by the fireplace knitting, and Charlie's father was arranging the two little daisies in an old soup can as a temporary vase.

"Charlie," his mother chimed, "would you be a dear and please set the table?"

"Sure, mum," the boy grabbed a stack of plates and a handful of silverware and set places for everyone.

"Mr. Wonka should be joining us any time now," said Mr. Bucket, "so be sure to set a place for him."

Just at that moment, Willy swung open the front door and bounced in, a giant grin plastered across his face.

"Good morning, my dear people!" he exclaimed as he let himself into the house. The entire family replied their good mornings in unison.

"Willy," said Mrs. Bucket, looking up from her cooking, "you seem awful cheerful this fine day; wot's got you in such a good mood?"

Willy held up a finger for dramatic effect as he started. "Well-"

Charlie cut him off quickly. "Oh, nothing, mum!" he said, "Willy and I … have a busy day ahead of us, is all."

Willy looked down at Charlie with a puzzled look on his face. "We do?"

Charlie shot Willy a _work with me here_ glance as he placed the last set of silverware on the table.

Willy got the hint and played along. "Oh! Why yes, Charlie," he said with too much fakeness, "we have _so_ much to do today, like we have to…go certain places and check certain things out,"

"What for?" asked Mrs. Bucket.

"Uh…"Willy was at a loss for what to say next, so Charlie said, "…it's for Willy's new invention,"

"Why yes!" Willy exclaimed, "It's for…my latest and greatest invention! Television Chocolate."

Grandpa Joe perked up when he heard Willy. "So you're still working on that, Willy?" he asked, "I remember when you had shown us that part back during your tour of the factory, the one with the Golden Tickets." He smiled warmly, recollecting the memory.

"Uh, yeah," Willy said as he looked around the room, "that's the one."

"Alright then everyone," Mrs. Bucket chimed in, "let's all sit down and have some breakfast!"

The family gathered around the small table and devoured the wonderfully prepared meal of scrambled eggs, fresh toast with jam, and chopped fruit.

"You know," Willy said between bites of toast, "this food tastes so good, that I bet you that I could turn this meal into a breakfast flavor of my new Wonka's Magic Chewing Gum!" He giggled as he absorbed the thought.

"Just make sure it doesn't make anyone turn strange colors," Grandpa Joe added jokingly, pointing his fork in Willy's direction.

"Yeah," Charlie replied, "or that it makes someone blow up like a giant piece of toast or something!"

The three of them laughed at the thought, much to the confusion of the rest of the family.

When everyone had finished their meal, Charlie's parents rose from the table and began clearing the place settings.

"Charlie," said Mr. Bucket, "Why don't you help your mum clean up a bit, then you and Willy can go about your plans for the day."

Charlie agreed, and helped his mother wash the breakfast dishes.

* * *

Short chapter, i know. dont worry, it'll get better.

hope you're enjoying this! reviews?reviews?


	5. Hello! I forgot What My Name Was

why hello again! ok im soooo very happy that people have actually read this fic, and better yet, i've got wonderful reviews!!

omg you make me SOO happy!!

SO i finally finished the next chapter here, i reeeally hope its as good as the previous ones, cuz i tried to make it good.

and yes, the Sweeney Todd reference continues. i hope you dont mind. idk why that even ended up as part of the fic. but if i should stop with that, then just say so. i wont mind.

and PS: i still dont own Charlie. Or Willy. but i do lay claim to Isabella Morgan. and Mr. T... because he's not _necessarily_ Mr. Todd.

ok then, read on!

* * *

CH 5

Hello! I Forgot What My Name Was

"Geez, I thought you would never be done!" Willy exclaimed as he and Charlie walked down a long hallway to the Glass Elevator.

"I didn't take that long," Charlie replied with a smile.

"Did too!" Willy retorted.

"Did not!"

"Yeah-huh! Did t-"

THUMP

Willy walked straight into the front of the elevator, yet again, sending Charlie into a fit of laughter.

"You've really got to be more careful where you walk," giggled Charlie. Willy just grumbled something to himself as the two stepped into the Glass Elevator. Willy pressed a button that read ANYWHERE, and waited until the button turned yellow. Charlie had never seen that before, so he watched the chocolatier intently as Willy carefully took the letter from Isabella Morgan from his jacket pocket. He unfolded the paper with care, and spoke to the yellow elevator button.

"Go to…Fleet Street," Willy said to the button, which turned green upon hearing the command. The elevator then shuddered and began its journey out of the factory.

"Willy," said Charlie,

"Yeah?"

"You can tell the elevator where to go?"

Willy placed his hands on his cane and looked down at the boy, a wise look upon his porcelain face. "Well, Charlie," he began, "not every place in the world has its own button inside the Glass Elevator. Actually, most of these buttons here are for rooms inside the factory, but there are a few that make the Elevator go places outside, too. Like this one," he pointed to one button in particular that was at the top of the rows, "remember when we went to visit my father? Well, this button will take us directly to wherever his house is. But, sometimes, like now, we have the need to go somewhere that we've never been before. So, I put one special button in here that you can tell it wherever you want to go, and it will find the place for you!" He grinned proudly at his ingenious invention.

The Glass Elevator soared above the rooftops of the town below, and Charlie and Willy watched the people as they walked down the streets and into and out of shops. Everything looked so much smaller from way up in the sky, and it amazed Charlie every time he and Willy took a trip in the Elevator.

Before they knew it, the Elevator began to descend, and soon it had landed on the hard stone pavement of Fleet Street. And it was not exactly what they had expected it to be.

Fleet Street was located on the outskirts of town, and it was in an area that was known for those kinds of people that just shouldn't be messed around with. The buildings were old and most were unkept, and there was a general feeling of uneasiness in the atmosphere.

Down on the corner, there was a small tavern. The door was open, and the sounds of an argument drifted from the bar and toward Charlie and Willy. A man and woman were walking down the street from the direction of the tavern. The man had a scraggly beard and wore an old vest over his pot belly, and the woman with him wore high heeled boots, had disheveled black hair and carried a drink in her hand. She shrieked an awful laugh as they passed Willy and Charlie up on the street.

"I don't like this place, Willy," said Charlie as he looked around, "maybe we should just go back home."

"Oh, come on now, Charlie," Willy replied, "It can't be that bad! Yeah, the people are a little weird, but we should still look at that one place from the letter. Come on!" he nudged Charlie in the arm and started out of the elevator.

He and Charlie began walking along the stony sidewalk. "Now, we're looking for a barber shop somewhere on this street," Willy mumbled as he studied the letter, "so it should be around here somewhere." They followed the curve of the road as it slowly lead them farther towards the edge of the town.

Charlie looked up at the buildings with wide eyes, hoping that the next one he saw was the barber shop. He noticed that every once in a while there would be someone looking down at them from small second-story windows, each one of them with a piercing glare from cold eyes. He saw that look from an old woman, a mother with a baby in her arms, and even a small child not much older than Charlie himself.

Just when he thought they would run out of buildings to try, Charlie looked up and saw the striped pole of a barber shop across the street from them. A strange sense of relief overcame the boy as he tugged on Willy's jacket arm for attention.

"Willy, I found the barber shop!"

"Oh!" Willy exclaimed in surprise, more for the look of the shop than having actually found it.

It was only in slightly better shape than the other shops in the row, but it still was decrepit. Leaning in the front window was a faded sign that read BARBER. The paint on the sign and the striped barber pole was worn and peeling and the windows on the main floor were dirty. The door into the shop didn't sit straight on its hinges, either. The only thing that made it better than the other shops was the fact that someone had placed a small vase of flowers on a second-story windowsill above it, and the windows up there were cleaner and covered with sheer curtains.

Willy and Charlie exchanged hopeful glances as they slowly approached the barbershop door. It let out a loud groan as it was slowly opened and they stepped inside the dimly lit front room. There was a single barber's chair to the left end of the room, and behind it was a small table littered with combs and razors. A mirror sat on the tabletop, resting against the wall, and there was a crack in the upper right corner, as if something was once thrown at it. On the other end of the room, opposite the barber's chair, were two simple wooden chairs and a small table in between them. The back wall was empty; there was only an open doorway to interrupt its plain appearance.

Charlie stepped closer to the doorway on the back wall as Willy turned his back to look around the room. Just at that moment, rushed footsteps drew closer and a young woman stopped in the doorway.

The woman saw Charlie and smiled weakly. "Oh, 'ello there," she said with an Americanized English accent, "Can I help you?"

"Well, I sure hope so," Charlie replied, "my friend and I here are the ones who had that ad in the paper about needing a new vase, and we got your reply."

The woman's face lit up and her smile got bigger. "Oh, okay!" she said, "oh, apologies for not introducing myself. I'm Isabella Morgan," she held out her hand and shook Charlie's, "although you've probably figured that out already. But please, just call me Bella."

"Nice to meet you," replied Charlie warmly, "my name is Charlie…Charlie Bucket," he turned his head toward Willy, who still had his back to them, "and that is my friend, Willy Wonka."

Upon hearing his name, Willy turned around. His heart skipped a beat.

Bella looked up at the mysterious man behind Charlie. Her breath hitched in her throat.

No one said anything for a moment.

'_Oh my god, say something,'_ Bella's mind was blank.

'_Oh dear heavens, say something,' _Willy fiddled with his cane, unable to take his eyes from the woman in front of him.

"Uhhh…hi," he finally blurted out, "I, uh…" he laughed weakly, which seemed to ease the tension in the air a bit. Willy felt only slightly more able to compose himself, but he was still as a loss for words. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Um, my...name…"

"Willy," Charlie spoke softly, "I already told her what your name is."

"Oh yeah," he said, almost in a whisper.

Willy was overwhelmed with an entirely new feeling. He couldn't get over how _pretty_ this girl, Bella, was to him. He has to remind himself to keep breathing, because she had quite literally taken his breath away.

From somewhere in the back room there came the sound of a glass bottle slamming down on a table. A gravelly English voice muttered something, and then shouted, "Bella! Wot's goin' on out there who you talkin' to?"

Bella and Willy snapped out of the trance they held each other in. "Come with me, we'll go upstairs," Bella said quickly as she motioned for Willy and Charlie to follow. They passed through the doorway and up a dark flight of stairs; Bella stopped at the top of the stairs and produced a single key from her jeans pocket to unlock a door to the second story room.

"Don't you mind Mr. T, by the way," Bella said as she opened the door and flicked on a light switch, which flooded the small apartment with soft overhead light, "He's being grumpy just 'cause you aren't customers lookin' for him."

Charlie and Willy looked around at their noticeably neater surroundings. The walls were plain, but there were a few drawings tacked up, although some were unfinished. To the left of the doorway was a single loveseat, which faced the front windows. In front of the windows stood an easel, and there was a sheet of blank paper resting on it.

Bella ushered Charlie over to a table against a half-wall, which separated the living room from the kitchen area. There were a number of different pottery pieces on display on the table; vases, pots, and even a small horse head and a Buddha figurine.

"These are a few of the pieces that I've made, pretty much just for fun, I guess," she told Charlie, "They're kinda like examples of stuff I can do. So," looking around the room, apparently searching for something, "should we come up with a design for your vase?"

"Sure," replied Charlie, examining one of the pots on the table.

Bella walked around the small room, looking for something. "Well, it would be nice to know where my sketchbook went," she muttered as she crouched down to look under the sofa.

"Oh," Willy spoke up from over near the near the front door, "um, here it is," he held out the thick, spiral-bound notebook and smiled sheepishly.

Bella looked up and smiled as she stood and walked over to Willy to retrieve her sketchbook. "Thank…you," she said slowly as their eyes met.

Willy realized that Bella was shorter than him by at least a head. She had hair that fell gracefully to her shoulders, and he noted that in the light it shimmered and was the color of dark chocolate. Her skin was pale; not a stony complexion like his, but rather smooth and light, making her features appear delicate. But it was her eyes that really caught him. They were crystal green, but lighter than the color of an emerald. Her eyelashes were dark and full, making her eyes stand out even more. There was something about her eyes that captivated Willy; maybe it was because within them he could see this young woman's spirited personality, even when he'd only met her ten minutes ago.

Bella tore her gaze away from Willy's and gently removed her sketchbook from his hand. "Alright," she said, looking back towards Charlie, "so, about that vase now. Did you have any ideas in mind?" She walked toward a small table and chairs that were situated in the kitchen area, grabbing a pencil off of the half-wall on the way. "Come on in here, Charlie."

As the boy took a seat at the table, Bella dared to look back in Willy's direction. He was still standing by the front door, still as a statue. "You can come in here too, you know," she said softly, carefully avoiding his gaze.

"Oh," Willy sounded surprised, as if he didn't realize that he was allowed into the room. "Okay, yeah." He forced his legs to move and ambled to the kitchen table, sitting down slowly in the remaining chair.

He seriously didn't understand why, suddenly, he could not function properly. _'She's just a person, '_he thought to himself, _'so why do I feel like this? Why can't I stop staring at her? It's not nice to stare at people. But I can't help it!' _He looked down at the ball of his cane, tracing the black and white swirls with his finger.

"Willy," Charlie said quietly, startling him, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied, too quickly. Charlie gave him an unconvinced look. "Really, I'm okay!" he said with a pathetic laugh. "No need to worry, my dear boy."

Bella, who had briefly left the room, came back to the table carrying a stool. She sat down next to Charlie, so that Willy, ever so conveniently, ended up being across from her.

Bella realized this inconvenient seating arrangement, but pretended not to notice. _'Ahem, got to focus on work here,_' she thought to herself as she opened her sketchbook to the next fresh page.

"So, Charlie," she said, "first of all, who is this vase going to be for?"

"My mum," he replied, "Willy and I accidently broke her other vase, so I guess we owe her a new one."

"Oh, that's not good," Bella smiled at Charlie, "well, how should we make this new vase for your mum look?" She asked as she began sketching out a shape on the paper.

Willy soon was too deeply submerged in his own thoughts to follow along with their conversation. He studied Bella as she meticulously stroked the paper with her pencil, each line slowly building up to create the design for the vase. He noted the curvature of the pencil strokes, and of her hand that was controlling the pencil. He noticed the muscles in her slim arm flexing as she drew; how her hair swished across her lean shoulders as she turned her head toward Charlie, then back down at the paper. How glossy her hair was in the light. How it was cut shorter at her jaw line, then tapered down to her shoulders. That smooth jaw line, and light pink lips. And those _eyes_. Those absolutely captivating bright green eyes.

'_WHY am I paying attention to her like this?'_

"What are you smiling at?"

Willy's trance-like state was shattered as Bella smiled at him, her head cocked to the right.

"Do you like the vase?" asked Charlie, an optimistic tone to his voice.

Willy's eyes grew wide; he had no idea what was going on. Quickly he looked down at the sketchbook, where he saw the sketch of an upside-down vase. His expression became confused; he still wasn't thinking straight, so he couldn't figure out why Bella would've drawn an upside-down vase.

Bella knew why Willy was puzzled and she turned the sketchbook around.

"Oh!" Willy broke into a huge grin, "I see!" He examined the drawing further. Charlie and Bella came up with a simple, yet elegant design; a wider base, gradually narrowing to the top. There was also to be small flowers etched into the sides of the vase, traveling in a spiral pattern from top to bottom.

"I thought it would be nice if the vase was light blue," Charlie told Willy, "and the flowers I think should be light pink. Do you think that'll be okay?"

Willy was very impressed with not only the new design, but also the drawing itself. Bella had incorporated such detail and shading into it; it looked more like a masterpiece than just a sketch.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, grinning at Charlie, "That would be wonderful!"

"Well, good!" said Bella proudly, "I'll start working on this then right away, so you can give it to your mum as soon as possible," she stood up from the table and walked over to a calendar that was tacked to a wall. "I'm thinking that it'll take about…no more than two weeks, at the most," she ran her finger along the calendar page, calculating the time frame in her head. "Will that be okay?"

"Sure," Charlie replied happily, "that would be great."

The sound of rattling glasses and a chair dragging along a wood floor drifted up from downstairs. "Bella!" the gravelly English voice shouted from below, "I've got customers comin'! Get down here!"

She simply rolled her eyes. "Well," she said, "I guess that means it's time we get goin' then," she pulled her key out of her pocket again as she turned toward the front door. "Come on guys, I'll show you out."

The three of them descended the dark stairs and walked out into the barber shop, where Bella stopped just shy of the front door. "Well," she said, smiling warmly, "it was great meeting both of you," she looked down at Charlie, "and I'll have that vase made for your mum in no more than two weeks, alright?"

"That would be great," he replied, "thank you very much!"

As Charlie opened the door and walked out of the shop, Bella turned to Willy. "It was really nice meeting you, too," she said softly to him, smiling.

Willy looked down at her, catching her gaze for a moment. He didn't know what to say; his mind was very blank.

"Bella!" the gravelly voice shouted. She looked toward the back room, miffed by the interruption. Willy slowly opened the front door to leave, and quickly stole a glance over his shoulder.

"Well, bye then," he said softly as he walked out onto the grey stone street.

"Bye," she whispered as she stood at the front window, watching Willy and Charlie walk away.

* * *

i hope Bella's Americanized English accent wasnt confusing. hey, i try to be creative.

and also i apologize in advance for however long it will take me to post the next chapter. i have to think about how this story will progress. i hope you dont mind the wait too much.


	6. Renewed Memories

YAY!! so here it is, chapter 6! (finally) well, this chapter fell victim to a horrible case of writer's block, and it took me a bag of chips and huge thing of spicy salsa to finally get it finished... :P

i hope this is as good as the rest. and i thank everyone who has read this fic and reviewed it! these reviews are what keep me going on this fic and give me determination to fight the evils of writer's block!! woot

well, enjoy!

* * *

CH 6

Renewed Memories

"Uh, can I ask you a question?" Willy fidgeted in his chair at the table in the Bucket's house, as Charlie's mother laid a plate of snacks down.

"Why sure, Willy," she replied with a warm smile, "wot is it?"

"Well…" Willy paused, not sure how to present his question. He traced little patterns on the tabletop with his finger as he contemplated his words. "…you know what color an emerald is, right?"

"Yes," Mrs. Bucket replied, looking down at Willy.

"Well, is there a color that…is lighter than an emerald?" he seemed skeptical of his ability to say what he wanted to.

Mrs. Bucket thought for a moment, her expression filling with wisdom. "Are you thinking of another stone that is lighter than an emerald?" she asked, "because there is one that is a lighter green that I'm aware of,"

"I guess," Willy replied. "What is it that you're thinking of?" he looked up at Mrs. Bucket in wonder. She smiled, the light from overhead twinkling in her eyes.

"Come with me," she said, "I'll show you."

Willy followed her to a remote corner of the tiny house. She knelt down and reached under the old sofa that Charlie used as a step to get up to his room, and pulled out a box from underneath. She carefully removed the lid, and sifted through what looked like mostly papers. She dug through to the bottom of the box, and found what she was looking for.

"Aah, here we are," she muttered as she lifted out a tiny white box from the depths of the papers. She smiled as she dusted off the tiny box's surface ever so carefully.

"Now, this is something very important to me, Willy," she said quietly, "and now you know where I keep it, so mind yourself and don't ever go pokin' around in this box, okay?" she spoke very seriously, looking into Willy's eyes for reassurance. He nodded his understanding.

Mrs. Bucket carefully lifted the lid of the tiny white box to reveal a spectacular ring. "This is my engagement ring," she explained to Willy, "wot Mr. Bucket gave to me. I've always fancied it so much." She gingerly took the ring out of the box and held it up to show Willy. The band was white gold, and there was a square-cut diamond in the center. On either side of the diamond were tiny, light-green stones.

Mrs. Bucket let Willy hold the ring. "You see those stones on the sides of the diamond?" she asked, "those are peridots, which are lighter than emeralds. Is that the color you were thinking of?"

The stones caught Willy's eye the moment he saw them. He studied the ring for a moment, amazed at its fantastic, eye-catching brilliance.

"Yeah," he finally said, "that's the right color."

……...

Bella sat on her bed in the tiny bedroom, staring out the window. She was thinking about the same thing, now, for a number of days. She couldn't help it. She was bored. There wasn't much to do up there in her little apartment, especially when Mr. T was in a bad mood and didn't let her leave. She had worked on the vase for Charlie, and was done with it for the day. It was almost finished, anyways.

Glancing around the bare little room, she spotted her sketchbook sitting on the desk across from her. She picked it up and began leafing through the pages, starting from the beginning. She had that sketchbook for years, and over time had collected various pictures from magazines and newspapers that she thought would be fun to draw. Among the sketches of clay pieces that she drew for reference, there were lots of finished pencil drawings of animals; dogs, horses, even wildlife. Among those were drawings of people, too. Not anyone in particular, just people that she found in magazine ads and thought she would try drawing.

Bella paged through her sketchbook, only half paying attention to her old drawings. Suddenly, something caught her eye that she hadn't paid much mind to before. She turned the page back to what she had seen, and noticed something entirely…weird.

It was an old newspaper photo, lying loose in between the pages, which she had saved since she was a teenager. Examining it closer, she noticed the person in the image, and gasped in disbelief.

"No way!"

………………

Charlie wandered absentmindedly through the Chocolate Room, following the candy stepping stones in a winding path, hopping from one to another. _'I wonder what the Oompa Loompas are up to right now,'_ he thought as he watched four of them scurry past. He stopped momentarily to pluck a candy apple from its stem on the tree, when he felt something nudge his arm.

"Hey, Charlie!" Willy was grinning bigger than ever as he waved enthusiastically, just inches away from Charlie's face. "Wanna go to the Taffy Room and try out my new experimental taffy invention? Some of the Oompa Loompas tried it yesterday, and no one has had any weird side effects yet or anything," he said jokingly, adding a giggle. "Wanna go try it with me? Huh? Huh?" He bounced up and down, eagerly awaiting Charlie's reply.

"Okay!" Charlie agreed, his face lighting up at the thought of the new candy.

"Great! Come on!" Willy wheeled around and bounced through the minty grass, Charlie having to run just to keep up with the incredibly energetic chocolatier. Disregarding the candy pathway, Willy and Charlie ran through groves of candy apple trees, and wound their way around giant, colorful candy mushrooms, each as tall as a house. And then they ran past Charlie's little house in the meadow. His parents were both seated outside the front door, relaxing and enjoying the fine view. Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Willy's shouts of, "Come on, Charlie!" and the two of them running past the house.

"Where are you two going in such a hurry?" Mr. Bucket called out as Charlie ran past. Charlie slowed down and walked over to his parents.

"Willy said he has an experimental taffy that he wants me to try with him," he said, catching his breath.

"Come on, Charlie!" Willy's voice drifted over from down by the Chocolate River, "We'll take the boat! It'll be much faster!"

"Well, I'd better get going!" Charlie waved to his parents and ran down to the riverbank to meet up with an inpatient, yet very excited Willy.

"Just be careful now, dear," his mother called out after him, "but have fun!"

Charlie's parents watched as the pink sugar boat drifted down the river and out of sight. Mr. Bucket let out a content sigh and wrapped his arm lovingly around his wife. She nestled closer to him, looking out at the vivid scenery.

"I never fully realized just how lucky we are," she said softly to her husband, "until it really hit me a couple of days ago."

Mr. Bucket looked down at his wife, interested in what she was saying.

"And how is that?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Mrs. Bucket straightened up and smiled at him, her eyes twinkling and full of love.

"I found my engagement ring the other day," she whispered, even though they were alone, "and later on that day, I got to thinking…if it weren't for you presenting me with that very ring all those years ago, we wouldn't be where we are right now."

Mr. Bucket smiled warmly and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"That's very true, dear," he said, "and I was very lucky indeed that you said yes when I proposed to you with that ring," he chuckled softly.

"I would never have said no to you," she hugged her husband tightly. "Besides, if it wasn't for you, then we would've never had Charlie, then he would've never been around to win the Golden Ticket contest, and therefore, we wouldn't be living here right now."

"It truly is a wonder how our luck can change for the better," Mr. Bucket said as they looked at each other, a feeling of true and undying love shared between them.

"I love you, Mr. Bucket," she whispered sweetly after a moment.

"And I'll always love you, dear," he replied as he intertwined his hand with hers, and they gazed out at the Oompa Loompas hard at work harvesting gumdrops in the distance.


	7. Way to be Spontaneous

why hello again! oh, i know, FINALLY! i have the next chapter up. sorry. the evils of writer's block have really been attacking lately.

i thank whoever R&Rs this, i reeeeally appreciate that, and im glad those who are R&Ring approve of the story so far. your reviews are taken seriously by me and they keep me going on this story :) thank youuuuuu!

so ok, enough rambling by me. go read already!! i hope you like...

* * *

CH 7

Way to be Spontaneous

_FWOOMP_

The sound of a muffled explosion rippled through the chocolate factory, sending Oompa Loompas everywhere into a frenzied hurry towards the source of the noise. Hoards of them left their current work and traveled through secret corridors and passageways within the factory that were especially meant for them. Within a moment they gathered in front of the door to the Taffy Room, many of them briefly exchanging worried glances before one of them slowly opened the door.

Everything looked in order, except that an orange, powdery dust was settling all around the room. The Oompa Loompas entered and scattered throughout, searching the premises for any signs of damage. Suddenly, they heard giggling coming from behind one of the many tables that were littered with candy-making substances, and Charlie and Willy rose slowly.

"Oh, my dear boy," Willy giggled, "It sure was a good thing we ducked right before that explosion!" he brushed off his jacket and smiled down at his young heir. "Otherwise we would certainly have ended up a lot more orange!"

Charlie laughed at the fun of the experience, shaking residual orange dust out of his hair.

"That was great!" he exclaimed, "And wow! I never expected for the candy to blow up like that!" A look of pure joy and amazement was written across Charlie's face as he watched tiny orange flecks of candy continue to fall from the air. Reaching out a hand, he caught a dime-sized chunk of orange powder as it floated gently into his palm.

"Oooooh!" Willy exclaimed as he leaned over to take a look at the candy powder. After poking it with his finger, he nudged Charlie in the arm, a mischievous smile spread across his slightly orange-tinted face.

"Eat it," he dared the boy.

Charlie looked at Willy.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he asked. "After all, it was you who said that this was still experimental."

"I know," Willy replied, "but I also know when my candy is in a good enough stage to become eatable too," the mischievous smile returned to his face, "So go on," he said, "Eat it."

Shrugging, Charlie popped the orange lump into his mouth. Willy watched him intently, waiting for a reaction. After a moment, a smile spread across the boy's face as he looked up at Willy, causing the chocolatier to break into a huge grin.

"It tastes great!" Charlie exclaimed, "It's like a whole combination of fruit flavors! And it's really powerful! You should try some, Willy! You'd really like it!"

Both Willy and Charlie began to brush the settled orange powder off of the table in front of them, when some kind of movement caught Willy's eye. He leaned over and peered at the ground beyond the table, and spied multiple Oompa Loompas cleaning the orange powder from the surrounding area. Many of them were wearing backpack-style vacuum cleaners and were busy ridding the machines and contraptions in the room of the candy dust.

"Oh, hello there!" Willy waved wildly at his little workers, some of whom looked up from their duties and either waved back or smiled. All of a sudden, he felt a tug at his coattails. Looking down behind him, Willy saw another Oompa Loompa staring up at him with large eyes. He knelt down and listened intently as the tiny man in a vibrant yellow jumpsuit whispered into his ear, the chocolatier nodding his understanding.

"Oh really?" Willy muttered, "okay!" He rose and turned to Charlie, who watched the Oompa Loompa scurry away.

"What did he say?" Charlie asked.

"Well," Willy answered, smiling, "I've just been informed that since we've made such a huge mess with our explosion, that the Oompa Loompas would greatly appreciate it if we would let them clean up, which pretty much means that we should go find something else to do."

"Oh, okay," Charlie replied, "well, what should we do now?"

Willy thought for a moment, staring blankly into space. "Hmm…I don't know," he said slowly. Then, without warning, he gasped as an idea dawned on him, his blank expression changing back into that trademark huge grin.

"Let's go find the Elevator!" he exclaimed, "There are loads of rooms to pick from in there!" Picking up his cane that was leaning against the table, he bounded past the Oompa Loompas and toward the doorway. "Come on, Charlie!" he shouted, "Let's go!"

…………

Bella looked at the photo for the thousandth time since having rediscovered it in her sketchbook. She had been looking at it for a number of days now. She was pretty sure who the person in the newspaper clipping was, but she needed a definite answer; what if she was mistaken?

"No," she said aloud to the silence of her apartment, "you can't mistake someone like that…" she glared at the slightly yellowed, black-and-white image, "…can you?"

……………

"Willy," Charlie asked, "how do you know when one of your candies is ready to be sold?" He looked across the huge desk in the factory office at Willy, who was seated behind it in the wingback chair.

Willy shuffled a large amount of papers around on the desk while speaking. "Well, Charlie," he mused, "when you become as successful a chocolatier as I am, you kind of gain feelings for those kind of things." It looked as if he was trying rather unsuccessfully to organize, as he kept shuffling and re-sorting the 

papers in front of him. "Gosh darn it," he mumbled, "our brainstorming ideas are getting all mixed up here!"

"What do mean by feelings?" Charlie wondered aloud as he watched Willy's attempts at organization.

Giving up on the papers, Willy leaned back in his chair and looked across at his heir. A look of seriousness spread across his face; it caught Charlie by surprise. Willy was almost never this serious.

"When you have an idea for a new kind of candy, you know all about how you want it to turn out; you have this idea in your mind of how you want it to taste, its texture, and other stuff like that. And the more you work on creating this candy, the more you learn about perfection. You certainly don't want it to do things that it's not supposed to do,"

"Like turning people into blueberries," Charlie chimed in.

Willy laughed. "Precisely," he said. "I never intended for the blueberry pie course of my Magic Chewing Gum to turn that rotten little girl into an oversized fruit! But that's the kind of thing that you learn about. What ingredients do what, and what might happen when someone actually eats the candy. And you should always test it to make sure it's really the way you wanted it to turn out, too. Once you gain more and more experience with this whole candy-making deal, you'll gain feelings, or instincts, or something. And in time, you too will know when your perfect candy is just right and really ready for selling."

The two of them were quiet for a moment after that; Charlie seemed to be deep in thought, so Willy decided to resume his pathetic attempts at straightening out the brainstorming papers.

"So," Charlie spoke up after a while, "that's why you can't sell that bouncy candy ball yet?"

"What? Oh! You mean the thing that broke your mom's vase? That's right!" Willy replied, "That candy certainly can't be sold because its formula isn't quite right. But, that's how we learn. We have to test our experiments. Unfortunately," he smiled at the memory, "our little test in your house wasn't the greatest idea."

Charlie rose from his chair across from Willy and slowly made his way to the great window at the other end of the room.

"Hey, speaking of that, you know what?" Willy said, "It's been about a week now,"

Charlie looked over his shoulder, confused. "A week since what?"

"A week since we had the new vase designed for your mom, of course!"

"You're right," Charlie replied, "that means a week from now, it should be finished, and we can give it to her!" he turned to face the chocolatier, his back resting against the panes of window glass.

Willy began to fidget at the desk, picking up a candy-cane striped pen and twirling it in between his fingers. "Maybe… we could go back over there, and see how it's coming along," The thought of going back and seeing her again made his heart jump. "That is, if you really want to." He added quickly.

"Do you think we should?" Charlie asked.

Willy didn't want to make the final decision. "Its up to you," he said, "anyways, it is _your_ mom's new vase we're talking about."

Charlie fell silent, thinking, but it didn't take long for him to decide. "Sure," he said with a smile, "let's go take a visit and see how it's going."

"Great!" Willy beamed, and he jumped out of the wingback chair. "Come on, Charlie, let's go!" With a spring in his step, he grabbed his cane, which was leaning against the side of the desk, and bounded out of the office.

"Well I didn't think you _meant right this minute_!" Charlie shouted as he ran out the doors after Willy.

...

The sun seemed to have been held captive that day, because it was deeply hidden behind a thick blanket of menacing grey clouds. It was not showing any signs of reappearing, either.

Charlie and Willy walked down the grey stone of Fleet Street warily. The familiar feeling of uneasiness had settled down upon them the minute they stepped from the Elevator; it was as if a giant blanket had been wrapped around the chocolatier and the boy and neither of them were able to shake it off.

The color of the sky matched that of the buildings and streets on the outskirts of the town. Everything was monotone; the same dark shade of stony grey stretched on wherever Charlie and Willy looked. The only color in the area was the Nerds that were contained in Willy's cane and the red and blue striped scarf wrapped around Charlie's neck. It was if they were two modern-day people that became lost in an old black-and-white television picture.

The wind picked up briefly, causing Willy to pull his black overcoat more snugly against his shoulders. Hoping to lighten the mood a bit, he laughed half-heartedly. "Well, Charlie," he said, "at least we know where we're going this time."

The boy looked up at Willy, a hint of nervousness evident in his eyes. "That's true," he said, "and at least it's quieter out here today, too."

The two of them rounded the gradual curve of the street until they found the familiar striped pole indicating the barber shop, but there was something taped in the front window that they weren't expecting to see.

* * *

aah! suspense!! dont worry, i know where im going with the story line...at this point. so hopefully that means the updating will be faster next time. ;)


	8. Scars

HI! guess what? i managed to get another chapter done, even though i said that this story was on hiatus!! WOOT go ME!! (yay)

i happen to be very happy at the moment :D

well, i hope you all like this...and as always, i thank all of you who take the time to read and review this crazy little story. ive gotten alot farther in this whole experience than i ever thought i would. cool!

ok whatever...GO READ!!

* * *

CH 8

Scars

"Huh, well that's a bummer," Willy said. He and Charlie stood in front of the barber shop, staring at the sign taped in the front window. The sign, written on a piece of cardboard, read CLOSED.

"Now what?" he looked down at Charlie, hoping the boy would come up with an answer. Charlie scanned the front of the shop, pondering. Suddenly, his eye caught a hint of movement in the window on the second floor.

"I think someone's upstairs," he said, pointing to the upper windows.

…………

Bella was sprawled out on the small couch in her apartment, reading _Twilight_ for a third time. Her attention was ripped from the story when she heard faint noises coming from outside her window.

_Do I hear voices?_ she thought. Suspicion and curiosity got the better of her, so she rolled off of the couch and walked over to the front windows, which overlooked the street below. She crept close enough to the windows so that she could look down at the street, yet not disturb the sheer curtains that covered them. Inching closer, she saw two figures standing on the sidewalk below; a man with a top hat and cane, and next to him, a young boy.

"Oh!" Bella exclaimed, as she realized that it was the boy Charlie and his friend Willy. _Willy_…the thought of him made her heart skip a beat. Shaking that thought from her mind, she walked closer to the window, intending to open the curtains. Just as she lifted her foot to take another step, it got caught on something, sending her stumbling to the floor.

"OW!" she grunted, "What the_-_?" It was her purse that was the culprit; her foot had gotten entangled in its long shoulder strap. "Stupid purse," she muttered, standing and tossing it onto the couch.

Bella went back over to the window and parted the sheer curtains, looking down at Charlie and Willy.

"Hey, look," said Charlie, nudging Willy, "there's Bella!" Willy looked up at the second-story windows, and there she was. He couldn't help but smile.

Bella unlocked the latches and yanked the window up, trying to contain her growing excitement.

"Hey, Bella!" Charlie called out. She waved back, but then put a finger to her lips.

"Shhh!" she quickly shushed the boy. "Quiet, Charlie!" she called down in a hushed tone, "Mr. T is…asleep!" _Okay, I can't keep shouting things like this_, she thought, _or else Mr. T will definitely wake up_. "Hang on," she said quietly to Charlie, holding up a finger for emphasis.

She spun around and quickly scanned the room, her gaze falling on a small notepad sitting on the half-wall near the kitchen. She grabbed it, dug a pen out of her purse, and scribbled a note on one of the pages. Returning to the window, she ripped the page from the notepad and quickly folded it into a poorly-crafted paper airplane, which she threw out towards Charlie and Willy.

Instead of drifting gracefully to their feet, however, the paper airplane immediately took a nosedive and plummeted to the stony sidewalk below.

"Oooooh!" Willy exclaimed, and he ran to the other side of the deserted street to retrieve the crumpled aircraft. Charlie met up with him, and they read Bella's note.

_Mr. T is in the back sleeping! Be quiet, stay there, and ill come outside_

Momentarily, footsteps could be heard on the pavement, growing louder as they approached Charlie and Willy.

"Hey guys," Bella greeted them with a smile, "it's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you too," Charlie responded politely, "Willy and I were just wondering how the vase is doing."

Bella beamed with pride. "Oh, you guys are gonna love it! Come with me, I'll show you! But we're going to go in the back," she added more seriously, "Because you know, that front door creaks so loud, and that'll make Mr. T wake up if he hears that. I hope that's okay."

Charlie nodded; Willy simply gazed at her in awe. Bella led them past the other shops in the row of buildings until they reached an alleyway between them.

_You should say something_, a little voice in the depths of Willy's mind prodded. _She'll like it if you make conversation_… "It sure is a lot quieter around here today," he blurted out, hoping he didn't just say something stupid.

"Oh yeah, I know!" Bella replied, "It gets like that around here sometimes. Some days everyone is out and about all at once, making noise and being stupid, and other times, it's a freaking ghost town," she looked back at Willy, smiling, "It's just weird like that."

Willy grinned.

Bella took them through the alleyway and around to the backsides of all the shops in the row. There wasn't much of a difference in appearance compared to the fronts of them; the same cold, grey stone towered up towards the equally colorless sky. A few boxes and crates were piled up against the buildings; some of them looked as if they may have been intentionally knocked over. A glass bottle was lying smashed on the ground, and a stray cat was lapping up the remaining liquid. He hissed and leapt onto a nearby crate as Bella, Charlie, and Willy walked past.

"Well, here we are," Bella said as they approached the back door to the barber shop. She turned around in front of the door to face Charlie and Willy. "Now, remember guys," she spoke in a low voice, "we have to be quiet, okay?" the sweet smile returned to her otherwise serious face as she unlocked the door, slowly opening it.

The door opened into the rear living quarters behind the actual barber shop. They entered the kitchen, which was as dark and gloomy as the rest of the building. In the center of the room was a beaten up table and chair, and an empty bottle was the only object on the table's worn surface. Bella quickly led the way through the room and to the dark staircase that led up to her apartment.

Although sparsely furnished, the upstairs had a completely different atmosphere to it. It felt lived-in and not quite as ghostly as the rest of the shop, although something still seemed absent.

_Happiness, and…love_, Willy thought as he stepped inside. He knew that was what was missing, based upon the feeling that grew inside him every time he entered the Bucket's house. Although shabby and not extravagant in the least, there was always a warm feeling of love and happiness present within their small home.

"Okay, Charlie," Bella said, "Here…is your vase so far." She removed a small package from underneath the sink in the kitchen and brought it to the table. Gingerly unwrapping the plastic that was covering it, she revealed the almost-finished vase.

"Oh," Charlie was very impressed. "It's wonderful!"

"Yeah, I guess its turning out alright," Bella agreed, her hands resting on her hips. "It's finished drying now, so all that's left is to glaze it, and then have it fired."

"Willy," Charlie called to his friend, "Come take a look!"

The chocolatier, who had been studying a drawing Bella had tacked up on the living room wall, made his way into the kitchen area.

"Oooooh!" he exclaimed, "I like it!" he looked over at Bella, catching her gaze. He looked into her eyes, and saw, for not but a fleeting instant, something…different. Something that he hadn't noticed before.

Bella, although unwillingly, severed her gaze from his and turned back to Charlie. "Hey, you know what," she said thoughtfully, "As long as you're here…do _you_ wanna go ahead and paint the vase?"

The boy's face lit up and he smiled brightly. "Yeah! I'd love to!" he looked up at Willy. "Is that alright, Willy?" he asked.

Willy looked down at his young friend, surprised. "Of course that's okay! You don't have to ask my permission, my dear boy." He rested his hands, one on top of the other, on his cane.

"Okay, cool!" Bella replied. "Let me find the colors you'll need, and then you can get started." She left the kitchen and disappeared into her bedroom, quickly reappearing with her sketchbook in hand. She crouched down, digging in one of the kitchen cabinets until she found the shades of glaze that were needed for the vase.

"Okay, here we go," she placed them on the table, along with a handful of paintbrushes. "So, according to what we had planned, the main part is going to be light blue," she pointed to the outside of the vase, "and the little flowers are…pink." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "It's just like painting anything else," she explained as she opened the jars for Charlie, "only the stuff you're using is glaze, that's all. But whatever--ugh!" The same lock of hair fell in her face 

again. "Sorry," she swept all of her chocolate-colored hair up into a sloppy bun, "my hair is not cooperating with me today! But do you think you got it, Charlie?"

"Yep, thanks, Bella." The boy sat down at the table, removing his scarf and jacket, and began to paint the vase.

With a smile, Bella turned to the kitchen counter to retrieve her sketchbook, when suddenly she remembered there was something she wanted to ask Willy.

"Hey," she spun around, "there's something I want to ask you about, if its okay." Her green eyes met up with his, and she tried not to let herself get sucked into his hypnotizing stare. That failed. His bright eyes bore into hers, as if he was searching for something.

Willy was scanning her eyes for that glint of…well, he didn't quite know what. But he wanted to see if he could find that strange, different look to them that he so briefly noticed earlier. Maybe then he could figure out what it was.

"Um," Bella broke the little trance she was held in, reluctantly. "I…there's something I wanna show you…it's in the back."

"Oh…okay, that's fine." was all that Willy could force out. He followed her as she led him back to another room, glancing down at Charlie on the way out of the kitchen. The boy was fine; quietly painting away at the vase.

As Willy walked behind Bella, he happened to discover something else about her; stretching the length of the back of her neck from left to right, there was a thin, raised white line. A sense of sympathy suddenly ran through him; he wasn't expecting to see a flaw on Bella's otherwise faultless skin, and was worried that whatever caused that mark had potentially hurt her.

"What happened…" he whispered, "to…your neck?" He hoped that she wasn't about to get angry or anything.

Bella flicked on the light switch to her room, and froze upon hearing his question. She wasn't expecting to hear _that_. Sighing heavily, she turned to look up at the inexplicable chocolatier, a fake smile spread across the otherwise pained expression on her face. She chuckled weakly. "Eh, it's nothing to be worried about," she turned and walked into the small bedroom. "I, uh…got a pair of scissors thrown at me a long time ago, and well, they kinda cut me." She turned her back to hide the grimace on her face, and hoped Willy would accept such a lame excuse. She really wanted to change the subject now. "So anyways," she said, picking something up off of the desk, "I had stumbled across this a few days ago, and I was wondering if…well," she wasn't quite sure how to ask without sounding outright blatant. "…If you know who this is." She held out the yellowed newspaper photo so Willy could see it.

Willy walked closer to Bella and examined the photo for about one second, a giant grin spreading across his pale face. "Hey, that's me!" he exclaimed, pride filling his every word. "Wow, that was from a long time ago; look how short my hair was! May I?" he wanted to hold the picture himself, so Bella gave it to him. Willy studied the candid headshot of himself as if he was reliving whatever moment it had captured. "I know what this was from! This is from the day that I opened my factory! Wow, there were 

so many reporters there, I mean it was crazy!" He looked over at Bella, grinning, but it faded when he saw her expression.

"What?" she asked, startled by his reaction.

"I saw it again," he muttered, "in your eyes. They were different for a second."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Suddenly Willy realized what he had said, and became flustered. "Oh, never mind." He smiled sheepishly, trying to move off of the subject.

"No, what?" Bella persisted. He had pricked her curiosity and she wanted to know what he meant.

"You're gonna think it's silly," he replied quietly, looking down at the floor.

"No I won't."

"You'll probably laugh,"

"Mr. Wonka," she said in all seriousness, "I swear to God that I will not laugh or think whatever you have to say is the least bit frivolous or stupid," Her tone softened. "Now will you please tell me?"

Willy took a deep breath, preparing to divulge the pretty girl in his convoluted thoughts. "Well…earlier today when we got here, and you were in the kitchen…I saw something in your eyes that I didn't see before," he stared at the worn wooden floorboards rather than meet her gaze. "And at first I couldn't tell what it was, because it was gone so quickly…but then I saw that same strange glint in your eyes again just a little while ago and now I think I know what it is."

Bella stared at his porcelain face solemnly, waiting for him to continue.

Willy sighed and pressed on with his thoughts. "I saw pain, or unhappiness," he spoke so quietly, as if he would make things worse if his words were any louder, "…something like that. And it flickered in your eyes, but then it was gone so fast. It's like you're trying to keep it in hiding."

Willy removed his gaze from the floor and stole a glance at Bella. She had averted her eyes to the floor as well, her face grave.

"Its pain concealed by false happiness," she whispered, "I know what you mean."

"I'm sorry if I made you sad," Willy whispered, "but you shouldn't have to hide your sadness if that's how you feel."

Bella looked up at Willy, and this time she didn't try to avoid his eyes. She looked straight into them, completely aware that she felt hypnotized by their intensity.

"Yes I do." she spoke in a hoarse whisper. Her eyes were smoldering with the pain that she had fought so hard to cover up, but for once, she felt her control gradually slipping away. Willy was breaking the barriers that she had mentally put up to shield herself from the continuous unhappiness that she suffered from; he just didn't know it.

Multiple feelings were racing through the chocolatier's mind at once; he was so strangely fascinated by this new side of Bella, yet at the same time he felt bad for her. He didn't like seeing the pretty girl standing before him all sad. He couldn't help but feel this tiny twinge of guilt; he felt it was because he opened his mouth in the first place that Bella now felt bad about herself.

"I'm sorry--"

"Sorry for what?" Bella interrupted, "Don't be. It's _not_ your fault that my life is very far from the way I'd wanted it to be." She sighed. "If anyone here should be sorry, it's me. I shouldn't be bothering you with nonsense like this."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, that's all."

"It's okay," Bella's voice was rough, "just don't worry about me, alright? I'm fine."

There was silence for a moment.

"I should go check on Charlie," Bella finally said, and Willy watched her leave the room with remorseful eyes.

* * *

ooooooh...so how was that? i hope it was okay...hey, i tried to make it good. :D


	9. Just Another Day

HI again! another chapter...obviously. ok i hope you like this one, its a little darker than the rest so far. (i guess) well, you, my readers and reviewers, are the judges. see if you like this chapter. or hate it. i dont know.

READ ON!!

* * *

CH 9

Just Another Day

Bella had a hard time sleeping the next few nights. Her mind was helplessly consumed with the same mess of thoughts, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make her brain shut up. She lay in her bed in the dark of the night, victim to her own thoughts.

The newspaper photo that she showed Willy was on the bedside table, and she could somehow feel its presence next to her. It was as if the photo had an aura of its own; as if Willy, now that she knew, was actually there, perched not three feet from her head.

So she was right about that. It really was Willy Wonka in that old paper clipping. _Willy Wonka_, the (so-called) amazing chocolatier. _Oh my God_, she thought, _he's_ _the world's greatest freaking candy-maker! And he was_ here. _And he was getting all worried about me? What the hell would someone like him care about me for? _She grabbed the pillow from underneath her head and pressed it over her face in frustration.

"I don't get it!" her words came out muffled.

And how come a man such as himself had such a sudden, profound impact on her? Up until a few days ago, Bella had no problem with her ability to conceal her true displeasure for her life. It was just the way it had to be for her; she was stuck in a lifestyle that she was unhappy with, but she couldn't do anything about it, let alone let the discontentment show. So she adopted the habit of simply _not _letting it show. Okay, simple enough, but then _why _did she feel those concealed feelings—those barriers—start to crumble when Willy said that whole deal about her eyes?

"Because he was concerned…?" Bella talked into the pillow. _Well, that's dumb_, her mind disagreed. "No its not," she shot back at herself, removing the pillow from her face and rolling onto her side. "He cared; and that's the first time that anyone's cared in…well, a damn long time."

Then there was the issue of her scar. Bella felt a bit guilty that she made up an excuse about the scar's origin, but Willy's question had caught her off guard. _Well, I brought it on myself_, she thought, _I had put my hair up, and therefore anyone could see it. It's only natural to ask about something like a scar, isn't it? _

So why didn't she tell Willy what really happened?

Bella's fingers traced the raised line on the back of her neck; it only served as a physical reminder of the true events that it resulted in. She sighed in frustration. She knew why she didn't tell the truth, after all. It was because of what happened on that certain day a couple years ago. _Willy doesn't need to be bothered with what really happened. It'll just make him feel bad for me and I don't want him to_, the pessimist in her head mused. _Yeah, but he deserves to know the truth_, the optimist deliberated as she fought with her mind's reasoning, _he's actually a nice person. But that doesn't necessarily mean he can be trusted, though. Well, why wouldn't I be able to trust him? Because I hardly know him, that's why. And I don't want him to worry about me! It's not like he'd be able to do anything to make this…current situation…any better! What's he gonna do, tell me to come to his gigantically massive factory so as I can escape this crappiness? Um hello, I really doubt it. He's had spies infiltrate that beast of a factory, so why would he want me in there? Especially if he doesn't really know me. _

Bella reached over and picked up the old newspaper photo of Willy, holding it up to the dim light that filtered into her room from the streetlights shining in from the window. She promptly decided that she stared at that picture way to much, but she kept feeling a small twinge of irresistibility whenever she thought about it. In fact, she couldn't help but feel a similar urge when Willy had visited in person; he seemed too irresistible _not_ to look at. Sigh.

"I think I'm going insane."

………..

The days that followed those sleepless nights were plagued with "chores" assigned by Mr. T, but Bella was used to that. It was part of their bargain-she perform tasks to help run the barber shop, in return for use of the apartment upstairs. It was a rather crooked deal, and with unexpected details.

Bella was called downstairs and ordered to sweep the up hair from the barber's latest customer.

"So another unfortunate soul has dared to venture into the depths of this dark place?" she mused as she grabbed a broom, heading for the front of the shop.

"Just sweep." Mr. T growled, glaring at her with his piercing, almost black eyes.

"Apparently not in a peachy mood today, now are we?" she muttered to herself, and proceeded to clean up the front of the shop.

About ten seconds later, Mr. T appeared and leaned against the doorway between the front and back rooms. He did nothing further; just simply crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched his assistant as she swept little tufts of auburn hair into a neat pile.

Bella could feel his horrible glare burning into her back, monitoring her every move in the same way that a lion watches its unfortunate prey right before it's to strike. She tried to ignore his presence, forcing herself to concentrate at the task at hand, but with little success. She could feel the shards of her sanity slowly slipping away, gradually losing her ability to keep her mouth shut and resist the urge to spin around and insist to know why, just _why_, he had to stand there and keep watching her.

She shot a glance full of pent-up anger at the barber, hoping that would be enough to send him elsewhere and leave her alone. He merely frowned at her, then pointed to the floor under his barber's chair.

"You're not doing a very good job," his gravelly English voice snarled, "Get what's under the chair!"

"I already did," she replied, trying to keep her voice even. She scooped the pile of hair up into a dustpan and walked toward the doorway, intending on ridding the pan of its contents and moving on. But Mr. T stood upright and blocked the entryway, his extremely grey, pale face staring down at her, eyes flaming with anger. Bella stopped dead in her tracks, looking past him and into the back room beyond the impenetrable wall that his person had created.

"I said," he looked down his nose at her, "Go clean _under_ the chair!"

Bella set her jaw in silent frustration. _This always happens_, she thought as she quickly scanned the barber's belt before turning around. _At least he doesn't have any razors on him. That should be comforting. _She tried making herself feel better. At_ least he wont have anything on him to throw_… she shuddered at the thought.

Reluctantly, she swept the non-existent hair from under the barber's chair, unnecessarily emphasizing every swipe of the broom, just to show that every miniscule speck of hair, or dust for that matter, was gone. Swooping down to pick up the dustpan, she ran a finger along the worn wooden floor for dramatic, _this-floor-is-clean_ effect as well. She walked toward the doorway, which Mr. T was still blocking, and held the dustpan out in front of him.

"See? Everything's in here."

He glared down at the dustpan with eyes so intense, Bella almost wondered if the hair inside it was about to burst into flames. His expression flickered for a second, then he blinked and stepped aside to let Bella pass. She impatiently brushed past him, emptied the contents of the pan, and prepared the sink in the kitchen to wash the used barber tools.

When she stepped back into the front of the shop to collect the tools, she found Mr. T pacing restlessly in front of the shop's grimy window.

"You know, if you keep doing that, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," she said jokingly while collecting the combs and razors from the table behind the barber's chair.

"Shut up," he muttered as he paced, his dark, dangerous eyes scanning the small section of street in front of the shop.

"Oookay, fine." She rolled her eyes and left him to his pointless pacing, busying herself at the kitchen sink. Cleaning up after the barber was a normal task for her, which included the washing of his razors, combs, and other hair- and face-care instruments. She had no problem with the actual work—it was the barber himself that made it rather difficult to endure. He was half mad, she was certain, but she had to be careful not to set him off; his temper was quick and dangerous.

As Bella swished a silver razor around in the warm, soapy water in the sink, her mind began to wander. Her thoughts drifted to the same place that they had been stuck in for days, and she started thinking about _him_ again. She pictured the look on his porcelain face, so perplexed by whatever he saw in her eyes that day. He was curious about her, yet he was putting himself down for thinking that he made her sad about her life. _That's absurd_, her mind was racing now, _its not his fault, he's got to realize that!_

Her brow furrowed in contemplation as a new thought came to light. _Well, I'm probably not making things any better by not being truthful to him, either._ _He's already worried about me as it is, even if I think it's rather unnecessary, but I probably shouldn't get into the habit of lying to him. I don't want to lie to him. _She sighed heavily as she dried the razor with an old dishtowel and snapped it shut. _Maybe I should tell him about_—

"By the way," the barber's gravelly voice was suddenly right behind Bella, upsetting her train of thought. She jumped, startled, and spun around to face the interruption.

"Why was there a 'closed' sign in my front window the other day?" he towered over Bella, his entire face fixed in a menacing glare. "This shop does not close unless I close it."

Bella scoffed. "It does when you are passed out," she responded dryly, turning back to the sink. Before she dipped her hands back into the water, she inconspicuously grabbed the razor she had just dried and stuffed it in her pants pocket. _Just in case he feels like throwing something_, she thought, _this won't be in his sight_.

"You. Do. Not. Close. My. Shop." His voice was low and thick with burning fury. Bella tried to ignore the anger in his voice, quickly cleaning the rest of the hair tools before draining the sink.

"Do you understand?!" he shouted, making her wince. Her heart picked up speed and she became a bit panicked; it was not good if Mr. T started to shout. She wrapped the combs and razors in the dishtowel and held onto the package, keeping her back turned as she spoke.

"Yes, I understand--"

"Then WHY did you do it?!"

"Because," she felt feeble, but tried to make her voice sound strong. "Why should the shop even be open if you aren't even awake? What if someone were to come in here? What, am I supposed to tell them to go away because the barber isn't _sober_? That he's passed out because he drank too much again?" She stared down at the empty sink with wide eyes, afraid of Mr. T's possible reaction. He was quiet for a moment; she couldn't tell if he was actually soaking in what she had just said or scanning the room for something to throw. She very slowly glanced over her left shoulder and saw him still standing behind her, but she didn't look up high enough to see the expression on his face. Nervously, she stepped away from him and the sink, trying to create as much space between herself and the barber as possible. When she had made her way safely to the side of the beat-up table opposite him, she looked up at his face. There were dark circles around his already fierce eyes, and the corners of his mouth were turned down so far it looked as if he was about to bare his teeth like an animal.

"Uh oh," Bella whispered. Mr. T began to circle the table, coming closer to her. She began to circle it as well, avoiding him, so that the two of them ended up doing nothing but walk opposite one another around the battered piece of furniture.

"Are you telling me I shouldn't drink at all?" he growled, throwing Bella a defiant stare.

"What? No! No no no no, I'm not saying that," she replied nervously, still moving around the table, "I'm, uh, just…advising you…that maybe you shouldn't drink quite as _much_."

"Don't tell me what to do!" his fists clenched within the fingerless gloves he was wearing, indicating to Bella that he was on the verge of throwing anything that he could find.

"Oh, god, believe me," her tone was laced with panic, "that's the _last_ thing I would do." Circling the table for a third time, she glanced at the small countertop alongside the sink and noticed something—a fork. Why hadn't she seen that earlier? If Mr. T noticed it sitting there…

She couldn't stop travelling around the table, and before she could think up some distraction to keep the barber from glancing towards the utensil, it was too late. Mr. T eyed the fork, smirking wickedly. Suddenly, with speed Bella didn't know he was capable of, he strode to the counter, snatched the fork, and sent it flying, just missing her head by inches. It clattered to the wooden floor loudly.

"What the—" she gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Mr. T opened his mouth to say, or shout, something, when he was interrupted by the loud groaning of the shop's front door. He froze for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do. Then, as if he realized that there was more than likely a customer in the front room, he ran out to greet the newcomer.

"Greetings, sir," Bella heard him say, "Wot can I do for you today? How 'bout a stylish trimming of the hair? Or perhaps a nice shave? Bella!" the sudden outburst made her jump. Hesitantly, she appeared in the doorway out into the front room, eyeing Mr. T warily.

"Bring me my razors and combs, would you now?" his voice had become eerily pleasant. He held out a hand, beckoning for her to come forward with his tools, which she was still holding within the dishtowel. She knew what Mr. T was up to; he was putting on an act so that he wouldn't risk scaring away what little business he acquired, including the rough looking customer seated in the barber's chair at that moment.

"There you are, Mr. T," she hoped the cheeriness in her voice wasn't too noticeably fake, "nice and clean for this nice man here." She plopped the bundle onto the table behind the chair and headed back to the rear of the shop.

"Why thank you, my dear." Mr. T replied. Bella turned around and flashed a fake smile at the barber and his patron, glancing up at Mr. T's face briefly. His face had temporarily lost that cruel, menacing look, but his eyes were still hard.

As soon as she entered the back room, she headed straight for the stairs to her apartment, taking the steps two at a time as fast as she could. She breathed a huge sigh of overwhelming relief the moment she slammed her door shut and locked it, walking to the small sofa and curling up into a tight ball.

* * *

so what do ya think? at least you have been introduced to the wonderful world of Bella (minus the wonderful part)...and not to worry. our great love Willy will reappear soon. sometime. gotta work on that. so, how about a review? and THANK YOU for reading, as always!!


End file.
